The quest to create beauty
As a poet, my concern is to create beauty for a general audience. Recent times have made me flexible and experimental with form and ‘telling it slant’, but I embrace traditional forms like the ghazal or haiku as lovingly as I do more contemporary ways of writing poems. And while I honour such poetic concerns as tweaking, experimenting with, exploding, or exploring language, right now I am writing to communicate with a reader, to transmit and commune with the reader around a ‘point’.
My themes are general or universal, and can be entertaining or traditional fodder for poetry, yes, but not necessarily so, they can be intense and esoteric and new. No theme might be more universal than ‘I love you’ and ‘Fire! Save yourselves!’
Climate change, for instance, whether or not we like to face facts, is affecting all of us. We are in a home that is heating up and shaking and there is nowhere else to go — for man-children obsessed with spaceflight cannot ferry us billions to Mars. Besides, how inhospitable the red planet is, how hostile to life as we know it. I choose to make poetry with the theme of climate change at present, because I want to make beauty even out of this grimness, as a way of coping with the situation.
Public Service Announcement
Citizens, we’ve made paradise
it’s fragile as flint and hence our command
to believe in it to preserve it
the stronger your belief
the happier the place
by doubting you destroy:
a sceptic thought and
a brick vanishes from
the foundations of paradise
so for your good
we command you:
comply
By this gazette
may all know
question marks are banished
from books on punctuation
and also banned are words
carried on rising tones.
It’s our belief
you must live in dread
to be happy
that is our belief
which you must not
question
or paradise disappears
By this gazette
may all know
Now and Then
one day
you will end
like
the image appearing
now
slick lightning
licking
clouds
and
these sounds, too,
go
like
love
like
this vaporous globe
all things must go
they lack
hearts
yet are lovely
in their loveliness
we rejoice
Ajar
left the kitchen
door
ajar
though hungry
the rats
wouldn't leave
this morning
the world
is
a portal
outside which
I face epiphany
I am at last
ready for
(untitled)
melting ice caps
I open
Tinder
Magic
I turned mother into a conch shell
blowing blessings for sky and ocean, for shoal and fishing net.
Caressing the conch with my tender, trembling fingers
I walked to the shore and addressed the ocean.
I nested the conch in the hammock of waves
wiping the mollusc’s sharp lip into a smile, the ocean
turned her cool and full of strains of music
and made her quick to gleam like pearl and peafowl
brought her the bliss of the green depths
and I walked to the forest
I turned father into a drongo
the bird perched on my shoulder
and nuzzled my ear with his beak as I walked.
In the forest opened a clearing
there I brought the drongo and entrusted him
to the branch of a tree, and his fork of a tail
thrummed at last to the music of Earth
and he embraced peace.
He nestled beneath the wing of the jungle
where he learned the way to the land of song.
Then I climbed up a hill where the air was cool
scuffed up the moist soil with my hands
curled up in the burrow and shed my skin
I wrote this poem on my moult.
The essay and the poems are part of our Poetry Special Issue (January 2022), curated by Shireen Quadri. © The Punch Magazine. No part of this essay or the poems exclusively featured here should be reproduced anywhere without the prior permission of The Punch Magazine.
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